


Swan Songs

by MelodramaticMrTails



Series: NSDS [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Sexual Content, Sexual Harassment, Suicidal Thoughts, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: Eight times the Courier was there to help out his friends and once, they helped him out.  [a fo:nv au]





	1. I Geoff

I.

Ryan looks around a bit to try to find where his pip boy is pointing him. It becomes obvious quite quickly that it's not on the same level as him as he spots Geoff up on a cliff ledge. It's dark out but there's enough light from the over hanging moon to see him well enough. He's come quite far out here, hasn't he? No wonder Jack was so worried.

He makes his way up around the ledge, careful not to catch the attention of anything else, and trots up to Geoff. Of course, he's not sneaky about approaching Geoff but all the same, Geoff jumps when he realises someone is behind him. He pulls his gun automatically and Ryan arches a curious brow at him.

“Fuckin, dammit Courier,” Geoff breathes out tiredly. “Don't fuckin’ sneak up on me in the dark like that.”

“Sorry,” Ryan says. Geoff looks down the cliff edge before looking up to the sky again. He sighs loudly.

“What are you even doing out here?” he asks mildly. “And this late.”

[Speech 61/25] “I was heading over to the bunker to trade some things with Ashley and I saw you come this way,” Ryan assures. “What are _you_ doing out here?”

“Just- thinking,” Geoff replies. Ryan doesn't want to make him feel guilty by telling him Jack asked him to check on him. Apparently he's been coming out here a lot lately. Perhaps not specifically here, but sneaking out all the same.

“Way out here?” Ryan confirms. Geoff scoffs at him irritably.

“Don't you have stuff to trade?” he asks. Ryan plops himself down on the ground and crosses his legs, assuring he has nowhere to be any time soon. The bunker can wait. Geoff makes an annoyed face at him and just sighs again. “What do you care, Courier?”

“You know Jack would miss you,” Ryan says. Geoff doesn’t say anything. “And Gavin.”

“Would you miss me, Courier?” he asks. This time Ryan doesn’t say anything. Geoff snorts a bitter laugh. “I'm not gonna kill myself, relax.”

“You give me discount Nuka Cola,” Ryan murmurs.

“I'm glad you have your priorities straight,” Geoff replies with a cold, forceful laugh. He sits down beside Ryan and crosses his arms stubbornly. “I'm not,” he repeats. “I just- I don't know. I guess I like knowing the option is there.” He sighs again. Ryan doesn’t have much to say to this. He really can't relate.

“Did you know I'm from a vault, Courier?” Geoff asks.

“Jack mentioned something like that, yeah. Didn't really think about it much,” Ryan admits. The vault suit.

“Vault twenty five,” Geoff says. “Thing was absolutely massive. It was so big, we even had shuttles to get from one end to the other. You've been in vaults before, right?” Ryan nods. He's been in a few that he remembers, of course. He doesn’t remember the one he's from but he guesses that's irrelevant. “Do you know the experiment they did in my vault?”

“I don't,” Ryan answers.

“‘Utopia’,” Geoff tells him. “All the food and clean water and space we could want. We had everything and more. It was luxurious. We didn't have to work for anything we didn't have to do anything we didn't want to. We were encouraged to have as many kids as we wanted, to do it young and fast and with as many people as possible. You know, to balance out the gene pool? They told us once we got out of the vault, we would need to help repopulate the planet in order to preserve our species.”

“Sounds too good to be Vault Tec work,” Ryan murmurs.

“Because it was. The real experiment was over population. Our vault was never meant to open- and it didn't. That door is stuck closed to this day. We populated and populated and populated. By the time I was born, that vault was crowded. No one knew whose kids were whose, no one knew who was related, no one even cared. Kids were left to take care of themselves and adults were generally a thing to avoid as much as you could with being packed so close together,” Geoff explains. That sounds pretty awful. Ryan can barely stand being in a bar most the time.

“You see, so many people being packed in so close together makes them super agitated all the time. People need space and privacy to survive. The people in my vault, they- turned wild after a while. They'd go violent for no reason and murder each other in big riots. Serial killing, mass murder, cannibalism, sexual deviance- it was the normal. No one knew how to cope and after a while, really no one even understood that was a thing. Hell, sometimes people would just _die_. They'd literally just sit down and not do anything to death,” he says.

“There was a back up plan, of course. The people in charge of the test were supposed to purge the vault when things grew ‘unsustainable’. Obviously they got killed way before that. Serves ‘em right, really,” Geoff murmurs. “I was, well, they called people like me ‘the beautiful ones’. There were a few of us, we all grew up together and we'd hide in a room and board ourselves in and just- groom ourselves and each other. It was all we _could_ do. It kept us somewhat sane, I guess.”

“And you got out,” Ryan says.

“And I got out,” Geoff repeats. “We got into the overseer’s office and as it turned out, there's a secret exit in there. Out of all my, I don’t know, friends? I was the only one that left. The others, they just didn't care. They just sat and groomed and slept and I imagine that's what they're doing to this day. But I- I ran. I ran as far and as long as my legs could take me.”

“Why were you different?” Ryan asks curiously.

“I don’t know,” Geoff admits. “I don’t know why I cared so much. I guess I just- got lucky.” Ryan awkwardly grabs his shoulder to give him a comforting pat. This only elicits another sigh. “I didn’t even have a name then. Or a birthday. I didn't know anything or anyone. And I mean _anything_. I didn't even know people spoke to each other. Some guys found me in a house grooming myself and crying.” He laughs softly.

“I've never met anyone else from that vault,” Geoff murmurs. “If it even exists anymore. When I say I'm not gonna do it, I- I mean it. I just- sometimes I need to know that I'm not apathetic enough to lay down and rot away. I don't want to be like that.”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “I get it.”

“Ugh, here I am fuckin’ spillin’ my guts to the weird ass courier,” Geoff scoffs to himself. “Why are you such a good listener? Don't you know anything about the Mojave? Everyone for themselves.”

“I'm overcome with the desire to kill myself sometimes,” Ryan says. He sees Geoff swallow nervously. “Not for any reason, really. At least, not for one I can remember. My subconscious or my ‘spirit’ or whatever just sometimes remembers that something about me is very wrong.”

“Wrong?” Geoff echoes softly.

“I shouldn't be alive. I shouldn't _want_ to be alive. I don't remember, though, I have no idea what could have possibly happened to make me- like this,” Ryan says. “My brain is just hard coded to default to suicide sometimes. Not that it would even work. I'd just wake up as someone new, I guess.”

“I like you the way you are now,” Geoff murmurs. “I mean, you could be worse.”

“I don’t have a whole tragic back story to share,” Ryan assures him. “Sorry.”

“Maybe forgetting is good sometimes,” Geoff replies. “Less to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees. “If it makes you feel better, I could tell you some stuff about other vaults, though.”

“Good or bad things?” Geoff inquires curiously.

“Up to you,” Ryan promises.

They sit around for a while.


	2. II Jack

II.

“Well, is she a woman or not?” one scowls irritably.

“I don’t know,” the other insists. “It looks like a woman and says it's a woman but it has a penis?”

“We don’t have time for this. Just kill it and get back to work,” he growls.

“But- it's a doctor?” he says. “Even if he's a slave, ever since the last one died we really need medical attention.”

Ryan peers curiously over the ridge to see what's going on. This is a conversation he doesn’t like at all. Not that he likes any conversations the Legion have. Surprisingly, he sees Jack here of all things. She's tied up firmly as the Legion generally do with their slaves, but there doesn't seem to be any other slaves. What did she get herself into?

Jack's face is pretty beaten up but so are several of the Legion. She obviously did not come quietly. Ryan decides he can solve everyone's problem right now. He hops down off the ledge and one of the Legion spot him almost immediately.

“It's the vagabond Courier!” someone shouts. Jack looks up urgently. “Kill him!”

Ryan deals with the convoy easily. There are not many of them and they insist on coming at him with fucking rippers. He breaks their skulls like sugar. Once that's done and he's checked the surrounding area to make sure there aren't any more of them, he returns to quickly untie Jack.

“Jesus, Courier,” she breathes out, immediately latching onto him for a hug. Ryan tries to help her back to her feet but she seems to be having a hard time standing and she's mostly dead weight. He sits her down again, joining her when she won't let go. “I thought I was a goner.”

“What happened?” Ryan asks. Jack swallows nervously.

“I- I was just trying to find some supplies. They ambushed me. They knew who I was, Courier,” she says. That's not great. That being said, Jack is a fantastic doctor and as Ryan hears it, the Legion is aching for someone like that. He's not surprised.

“You shouldn't travel alone,” Ryan says. “Especially out this way. The NCR aren't guarding the roads for shit let alone anywhere else.” Jack nods quietly in agreement. He has no doubt she knew that already and that whatever brought her out here was incredibly important to her. She starts crying. Ryan isn't sure what to do about this so he just pats her back awkwardly.

“I'm sorry, Courier,” she sobs. She's really shaken up, Ryan can tell. “I just- I never- When I realised I was a woman, it was hard. I didn't- I didn’t just wake up one day and pass as well as you did. Even now I- people are cruel, Courier. People will attack you for no reason but when there is one? It's a nightmare.”

“I know,” Ryan says softly.

“All my life I've struggled. People- They always think I'm ‘well off’ because I'm so big. Even as a man, I got robbed and attacked on a weekly, if not daily basis. The people I joined up with to watch one another's backs, they turned on me when I came out. I've never met another doctor in the wasteland that believed, let alone made any attempts to even think about, trans people. So I did it myself. I taught myself,” Jack murmurs. Talking seems to help her calm down some and she's not shaking anymore.

“I loathe the Legion,” she whispers. Ryan never had any doubt about that. “I was a slave for two years, Courier. I- it wasn't all bad back then. I was a man, a ‘straight’ man, and I knew medicine. They treated me better than most and I- I killed so many of them. Bad drugs and bad surgeries and over dosing. The only important thing I ever did in my life.”

“You got away?” Ryan asks. Jack nods again.

“One of the soldiers, one of- one of the men who caught me, he ’bought’ me. He let me free because he loved me,” Jack says quietly. “I killed him and I ran.”

“You're very good at what you do, Jack,” Ryan promises. “Nothing changes that.”

“I don't- I can't be a slave again,” she tells him. “I'd kill myself.”

“Don’t,” Ryan says immediately. Jack squeezes him hard. “Jack, don't. If you're /ever taken by the Legion, I'll come get you. I swear.” She lets out a forced, sarcastic laugh.

“You're certainly not Mojave material, you know that Courier?” she murmurs. “Why? Why would you-” Try as she might to not, she breaks down into tears again and sobs into his chest. “Fuck you, Courier. Fuck.”

“You did me right,” Ryan assures. “I remember who did me right.” If any of them were in trouble, Ryan would go to the ends of the wasteland to help them without question. That includes Jack most of all. “Plus, Geoff would pay me probably all of his caps.” Jack laughs a more sincere, hiccup of a noise.

“Maybe you are Mojave material after all,” Jack says.

“I don’t remember who I was before,” Ryan murmurs. “I don’t know if I was a woman before, or ever, and I don't know if I always ‘passed’ this well. I don't know if it was hard. Honestly, when I woke up in your house I didn’t even have a concept of an idea what something like that would mean. You made it so easy for me, even when I didn’t have any caps.”

“Don’t,” Jack says and she sounds like she's on the verge of tears again. “Don't be nice to me.”

“I owe you a lot, Jack. I wouldn't have stuck around Fake Springs if it weren't for you,” he tells her. “I probably would have become a mindless, violent wreck high on med-x and bent on revenge if it weren't for you.” Jack hits him, not enough to hurt him but hard.

“You've done so much for us, Courier you dumb fuck,” she laughs sadly. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“If you're trying to get rid of me, it's a little late for that,” Ryan assures. “I'm weird and I'm here to stay.” Jack only laughs more in reply. Ryan grins. He lets her keep hugging him until she finally stops crying and collects herself a little better. It takes her a little bit but there's no rush.

“Let's go,” Ryan says quietly. “I'll help you get your supplies and get you back to the bar.”

“There's probably more Legion out this way,” Jack murmurs.

“Shame,” Ryan replies. “Something might happen to them way out here.” She smiles at them.

They gather some supplies.


	3. III Gavin

III.

Gavin should be around here somewhere? Ryan curiously peers into one of the building windows and sure enough, Gavin’s startled face meets him. He watches the lad jolts backwards, trip over his own feet and take a tumble to the hard ground. Ryan looks down at him questioningly. It takes him a couple seconds but Gavin hurriedly moves to open the door and urgently gestures Ryan in. What's he doing in a dusty old motel like this, anyways? There's a lot of Fiends in this area.

Ryan slips in and Gavin violently closes and locks the door again. He wedges the chair back against it and grabs Ryan's arm, yanking him back into the bathroom. This bathroom is small. Ryan doesn’t like it. Obviously Gavin is more than at home because he climbs into the dirty bathtub and covers his head with his hands.

“Uh,” Ryan says. “What's wrong, buddy? Jeremy said you and Michael were supposed to meet up with him a while ago. Where's Michael?”

“He had to go do something else,” Gavin murmurs. “Get some stuff for Geoff. I came by myself.”

“Why are you in here, Gavin?” Ryan asks. Gavin looks up at him worriedly then tucks back into a ball again.

“Slavers outside,” he says quietly. Ryan raised an annoyed brow. Slavers? Why hadn't he seen them? He'll kill them.

“Where?” he asks sharply. Gavin shrugs. “Gavin, I need to know where they are so I can turn them inside out.”

“What's it matter?” comes the mild reply. “They'll just be more of them. There's always bloody more of them.” That's besides the point. Ryan will kill as many of them as it takes for them to understand this is a bad career choice. Ryan crouches down beside the tub to pet Gavin’s back carefully. Gavin sighs deeply.

“Sorry, Courier,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to make you come look for me. I just- freaked myself out. I came out here because there aren't a lot of slavers- just the Legion. Seeing them made me- remember some things I didn't want to.”

“You know we wouldn't leave you with slavers, right?” Ryan questions. “Pretty sure Michael would rip the wasteland apart to get to you.” Gavin nods.

“I know,” he says. “I-I'm glad I found the people I did.” He doesn’t say anything for a bit and Ryan just slowly rubs his back to try to assure him he's not here alone. Honestly, Michael probably told him to stay put and he didn't listen; none of them are fond of letting Gavin out of their sight for this reason exactly. He's still too nervous and shaky to handle himself alone. If the Legion were to get him, it would be sheer hellfire.

“If you tell me what they look like, I'll take care of them,” Ryan encourages him again.

“I know,” Gavin whispers. He goes quiet again.

“Gavin,” Ryan murmurs.

“The slavers where I'm from are bad,” Gavin tells him quietly. “A lot worse than out here. A lot worse than the Legion, even. I was- I was actually lucky to get sold to someone out here. I probably would have died back home. Resources are so, so much more scarce. Some people just- buy slaves to eat, Courier. Others of us are forced to act as bait or even worked to death farming.”

“Oh,” Ryan says.

“Out here we're- _they're_ just playthings. You make ‘em do light work mostly, an extra hand if you have the caps or-” Gavin pauses and swallows thickly. “Rape them. I mean, I still got food and stuff. I had a place to sleep. I was- I really was one of the lucky ones, I guess. Too small to eat or do heavy lifting. Too dumb for smart stuff, too young for guns. All I did was clean and organize and mundane household tasks.”

“You deserved better,” Ryan promises him.

“The worst part is, I probably would have died anyways, even if I was never a slave,” he says. “Starved or killed or eaten anyways. In the end, I did meet Geoff. And Michael. And Jeremy. And you.”

“You don’t have to be okay with what happened to you just because it ended well,” Ryan murmurs. “You hated being a slave and rightfully so. That's something you never have to go back to.”

“Yeah,” Gavin says softly. He changes the topic swiftly. “Hey Courier, is it true the Legion captured you once?”

“Once,” Ryan agrees. That was a whole ordeal.

“How did you escape?” he asks.

“I snapped off my collar and murdered everyone in the area,” Ryan replies. Gavin snorts a laugh, finally offering up a somewhat amused and genuine grin.

“If you were anyone else, I probably wouldn't bloody believe you, you know,” he assures. Ryan chuckles. “Ray worries about you when you leave, you know. I know he acts all nonchalant and uncaring but he does get worried when any of us are gone too long. I think he tries to look for us when he goes out ‘scavenging’.”

“You think?” Ryan muses curiously. He finds that pretty hard to believe.

“You especially. No one else wanders as far away or gets into as much trouble,” Gavin says. He makes a point there.

“Do you want to see something?” Ryan offers. Gavin perks his head up, looking at him with clear interest and immediately nodding. Ryan pulls off his armor chest pieces and moves to unbutton his leather jacket underneath.

“You're not gonna show me your dick, are you?” Gavin asks.

“I'd need a few more Nuka Colas for that,” he assures. He pulls off his jacket and turns around enough to let Gavin see his back. Gavin doesn’t say anything immediately then he carefully reaches out to touch some of the scars there.

“Are these from fights?” he questions softly.

“I don’t know,” Ryan replies. “When I woke up in Jack's house, I already had them. In my time traveling, I've found there's not a lot of things that will make scars like these.”

“W-whips?” Gavin asks. Ryan nods. “Do you- do you reckon you used to be a slave?”

“I have no idea,” he assures. “But anything’s possible, I suppose.” He starts pulling his clothing back on.

“Maybe forgetting is better,” Gavin murmurs. “I don't- bad things happened to me but I don't want to forget them. They make me, me, you know?” Ryan nods.

“That's okay. What I do now is what makes me who I am. I don't need to remember what I've done,” he assures. Gavin seems to nod thoughtfully in agreement. “Now, do you want to tell me what these slavers looked like?”

“Oh,” Gavin mouths. “Sure. Sorry.”

“Just stay in here, alright? Lock the door behind me and I'll be back for you once they're taken care of,” Ryan promises. “Make sure you get where you're going this time.”

“Ah, thanks Courier,” Gavin murmurs quietly.

“Of course.”

He brings back a couple heads.


	4. IV Lindsay

IV.

Ryan pads into the cave and immediately, Lindsay points her gun at him.

“I warned you, assholes!” she barks at him. “I- Courier?” And of course, she lowers her weapon again. Ryan looks at her questioningly. She's very badly injured but that's not a surprise considering what he ran into outside. “Jeez, I almost blew you and me both to hell and back.”

“It would be nice if you didn't,” Ryan assures. Lindsay lets out a painful laugh.

“How’d you get past the Silver Rush?” she asks. Ryan arches an amused brow and she laughs again. “Did you really kill them all?”

“They shot me first,” he assures.

“Incredible,” she breathes out. He comes to kneel beside her to check some of her injuries. They're bad but not deathly. He gives her a couple stimpacks and she sighs in relief. “Thanks Courier.”

“No problem,” Ryan replies. “Is there a reason the Silver Rush wants your head on a dish?”

“That depends,” Lindsay answers as she starts bandaging herself up. “Would you believe it's a misunderstanding?”

“No,” Ryan says.

“Fair enough,” she murmurs. “Well, why are they after you? It's not polite to make the lady tell first.”

“I don’t remember,” Ryan replies simply. “Whatever it was, it was bad enough that none of them are willing to give me a word in edgewise.”

“Sounds about right,” she agrees. “I guess it's not that much of a secret. I used to do some work for them, you know. Fixed their crap and put a cap amount on shit they knew nothing about.”

“I hear they're good at what they do,” Ryan agrees.

“Yeah, well,” Lindsay says. “I got tired of it. Their business practices were shady as hell, they skipped out on paying me as often as they could, and they treated me like garbage when they found out I used to be En-” she coughs suddenly, cutting herself off before she goes too far. Ryan blinks curiously as she seems to await a reaction.

“Anyways,” she moves on hurriedly. “I left.”

“And they hunt you down, now?” Ryan asks.

“I may have left with a lot of their gear and also put bombs in most of their safes,” Lindsay says.

“Ah, yeah,” Ryan nods. “I see how they'd be mad about that.”

“We all make mistakes sometimes,” she assures.

“Was yours joining the Silver Rush or leaving it?” he questions. She laughs again.

“We just don't know, do we Courier?” comes the amused reply. He's pretty sure she knows. “Thanks for taking care of them for me, though. Usually they're not so well prepared.”

“Does this happen often?” he asks.

“With the Silver Rush? No,” she answers.

“With others?” Ryan says.

“Now and again, sure,” Lindsay agrees. “People like us make very dangerous enemies, Courier. You know that.” He does.

“People like us?” Ryan repeats.

“Business people,” she smiles at him. He raises a curious brow. “Not buying that either, huh?”

“Your business isn't mine,” Ryan assures. Lindsay sighs.

“You're so strange,” she says. “Don't you know anything about the Mojave?”

“I get that a lot,” he murmurs back. She looks at him and he grins.

“You're a cold killer and we both know it,” Lindsay says. Ryan nods in agreement; there's nothing to argue with there. “Do you know what the Enclave is, Ryan?”

“I don't,” he answers.

“Well, they're not great people, I'll tell you that,” she assures. “I used to be one of them when I was a very young girl. Some people, most people, still hold that against me. I won't even tell Michael.”

“Why are you telling me?” Ryan muses questioningly.

“I don't know,” she sighs again. “I guess I figured you were one of the few people who just wouldn't care. It gets rough having to hide so much about yourself. I'd say you understand but you don't have much to hide if you can't remember, eh.”

“You really think Michael would react badly?” he asks.

“No,” Lindsay says with another sigh. “I think he'd pretend to deal with it. I think he also knows when to cut and run, though. One day he'll realise he's in over his head and he'll remember I'm Enclave and bolt.” Ryan doesn’t say anything. “It's not that I don’t trust him. This is the wasteland, Courier. Sometimes people do things without thinking to survive. I doubt he'd mean it but- it would be hard not to be angry. I'm doing us both a favor by just not mentioning it.”

“Are the Enclave really that bad?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she assures. “They once tried to purify all the ‘irradiated’ creatures in the wasteland.”

“Wouldn't that be-” Ryan begins thoughtfully.

“Everyone and everything except for them and a few untouched vaults? Yeah,” Lindsay confirms. “I don’t expect you to go around telling everyone but, this is just between us, right Courier?”

“Of course,” Ryan agrees. There's no reason for him to tell anyone, anything about Lindsay. “I'm from a vault, you know.”

“You- really?” Lindsay asks in amusement. “You don’t seem the type at all.” Ryan sits down beside her and shows her his pipboy.

“I'm pretty sure. It's one of the few things I can kind of know about my life before,” he murmurs. He plies the face of his pipboy off with his fingers and she winces a little as he shows her his arm underneath. “See this groundwork? Jack says it was done properly and when I was very young. There aren't any scars. The only way that could have happened is in a vault.”

“But you don't know which one?” Lindsay asks quietly. She touches the pins in his arm carefully before obviously finding this too weird.

“No. I have no where to even start and I don't really want to. There's a reason I'm not there anymore,” he assures. “I guess this isn't really a secret. Most people assume I'm from a vault since I have a pipboy.”

“Yeah, I mean you’d be surprised how many people have them that aren’t from vaults,” Lindsay tells him. “Usually the kinds of people that come out of there aren’t exactly prepared for what they’ll face out here.”

“People don’t always take kindly to realising I’m from a vault, either,” Ryan says. “Not that they’re wrong. I’ve seen what happens in there.”

“Well, usually the people in the vaults are victims,” Lindsay assures him. “Enclave? Not so much.” Ryan nods in agreement. “Anyways, like I said, thanks for the help and- thanks for listening to me complain. You’re a weird friend, Courier.”

“Thanks?” Ryan replies. “I think?”

She leaves before him.


	5. V Michael

V.

“Get off me!”

Well, that’s Michael’s voice. It’s not exactly discreet or quiet. Ryan follows the sound of Michael shouting, other people shouting under him, and what is clearly a struggle. He’s not in that much of a hurry; Michael can handle himself.

And he has.

By the time Ryan gets there, whatever has happened is done with. Michael stands over the bodies of the people bothering him, both fists clenched as if daring them to rise from their graves. Ryan peers around curiously to make sure there aren’t anymore of them. This area is pretty dense with Vipers but he would think they’d know better than to mess with Michael anymore. In fact, most of them avidly avoid him.

Ryan approaches Michael and once he gets too close, Michael seems to panic. Obviously Ryan has surprised him because Michael square clocks him in the jaw with a very hard, forceful fist. There’s a moment of silence between them where Michael realises it’s him and Ryan frowns softly. Michael shakes his hand out.

“You’re so fuckin’ weird,” Michael murmurs.

“Are you alright?” Ryan asks.

“Fuckin’ fine,” comes the annoyed reply. He’s obviously just finished punching roughly seven people to death so Ryan isn’t so sure of that. Michael irritably wipes some blood from his face then his hands before just plopping himself down on his ass in the sandy dirt. Ryan sits beside him and Michael glowers at him.

“What are you doing way out here, anyways?” he asks. It’s a little off the beaten path. He knows Michael can handle himself but if for some reason he couldn’t, it might have been a while before they found him.

“Mind your own business, Courier,” comes the snappy reply. It looks like he’s still really high- likely on psycho if Ryan knows Michael at all. “Fuck off.” Ryan doesn’t do that. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t leave, either. He’s not exactly all about leaving his friend- question mark- super high alone out in Viper territory.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell anyone I was out here, Courier,” Michael barks at him.

“Alright,” Ryan agrees without argument. That’s really none of his business, either. Michael glares at him again, suspiciously this time.

“What are _you_ doing out here,” he asks pointedly. Ryan considers a decent way to answer this question.

“Hunting some animals?” he offers. Michael scoffs but doesn’t think much of it. This wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing they’ve heard or seen him do. Michael crosses his arms stubbornly, otherwise content in sitting in the middle of the pile of bodies he’s just made.

“I was buying some drugs, okay,” he finally murmurs.

“Ah,” Ryan replies. “Why is that a secret?” Everyone already knows he and Lindsay are really fond of psycho. Hell, everyone back in FAKE takes something to take the edge off living in the Mojave. No one’s judging him.

“They said they had addictol,” Michael says quietly. Ryan mouths a small ‘oh’.

“Are you trying to get clean, Michael?” he asks curiously. It’s certainly nobel. Pyscho is- well it’s not exactly med-x or mentats, that’s for sure. It makes people wild and feel strong; a bad combination. Ryan doesn’t know Michael well enough to say for sure if his personality is from too much psycho over too many years or if the chem just agitated his already irritable being.

“No,” he replies shortly. “Not right now, anyways. Psycho fucks you up, man. I just, I don’t fuckin’ know, want to make sure I have something to help if I ever do? I don't want to end up scrambling to figure something out while I withdraw.”

“Sure, sure,” Ryan agrees. “Why the sudden concern?” Michael scratches his arms irritably and ruffles his hair. He's sitting way too still to be able to come down right now.

“It's not,” he huffs back. “I- fuck, what the fuck. I don't fucking want to talk to you about this, fucking christ. You'll probably just sell me out for a couple caps, anyways. That's what you do, isn't it Courier?” Ryan doesn’t say anything. He knows what paranoia is like and he knows what being super high is like, too. There's no point in agitating him further by trying to tell him he's wrong.

“Fuck,” Michael growls again. “Seriously, I fucking punched you so hard, anyone else probably would have fuckin’ died or at least had a broken face or something. I think your face broke my fuckin’ knuckles.” He shakes his hand sorely before looking at them again. Ryan peers at his hand quietly. They're a little out of place but not broken. He'll be fine.

“I just don't want to hold Lindsay back, alright?” Michael sneers. “She's like, fuckin’ smart and shit and I just punch things.”

“If you were holding her back, I'm pretty sure she'd leave you behind,” Ryan assures. Michael gives him a dirty look. “Alright, I might have phrased that wrong. I'm just saying, she knows what she likes.”

“Whatever,” Michael scoffs. “She's, like, from one of those fuckin’ brotherhoods or something, I swear. She knows all this shit and can do all this shit and I- can barely fuckin’ read. That sure as hell feels good.”

“I could teach you,” Ryan offers.

“Fuck no,” Michael replies immediately. “If I fuckin’ wanted to learn how to read, I'd ask Lindsay, not your weird ass.” That's fair. Michael sighs deeply. “Look, Courier, I just- fucking. I just feel wasted, okay?”

“That's probably the psycho?” Ryan murmurs.

“Not like that, fuck,” Michael barks at him. “I mean, I grew up in a vault. Not like a fancy one like you or Ray. My family used to live out in the wasteland and we found an abandoned vault and moved in. It was easy to protect and it still had power and shit. There were books and classrooms and medical rooms. That vault should have been my ticket to, I don't know, not being fucking raider scum?”

“Were your people raiders?” Ryan asks.

“What do you fucking want me to say?” Michael snaps at him. “We tried not to kill people but if there was something we needed, we took it. Minded our own business, otherwise. People leave us alone, we leave them alone.” That just sounds like the wasteland, really. Ryan generally categorizes raiders by people who wildly and viciously attack people for no reason.

“I was fucking dumb,” Michael says. “I'm still fucking dumb. It was-” he sighs again, scratching the track marks on his arm. He looks down into the sand. “It was easier when I was a raider. When I hung out with the Fiends.”

“You were a fiend?” Ryan questions curiously. He's honestly not that surprised. Michael nods.

“All the drugs and sex and killing you could want,” Michael murmurs. “I don't remember most of it. When I left, it was hard. I had to get clean off a lot of shit. Stayed clean for a while. I got fuckin’ bored and relapsed. Almost fuckin’ died over dosing on pyscho. Lindsay found me. I hold her back.” They sit in silence for a little. Out of everything, this is surely the most weird for Ryan. Who knew Michael had feelings.

“We're all addicted to something,” Ryan assures. “It makes the Mojave bearable.”

“I don't want your poetic shit,” Michael snarls.

“I didn't mean it poetically,” Ryan replies. Michael gives him an eye. “Literally every regular at Geoff's bar has sent me to get a very specific drug for them at some point so they don't withdrawal. I go through med-x like Nuka Cola.”

“I guess,” Michael gripes back. “Doesn't fuckin’ make me feel better.”

“Sorry,” Ryan says. “Usually I'd have some sort of comparison to make but I don't really- have anyone like Lindsay. I've been alone quite literally for as long as I can remember. People sort of still freak me out.”

“I never would have guessed,” Michael says sarcastically.

“I'm still worried Ray is way out of my league,” he murmurs. Michael snorts.

“No offense, Courier, but Ray eats literal garbage and sleeps on a pile of miscellaneous junk. You murdered an entire gang probably with your bare hands,” he answers. Ryan laughs quietly.

“Do you really think Lindsay doesn’t see you as her equal?” he asks. Michael doesn't say anything. “That she's not worried about her own stuff, too? You two are- good together. You compliment each other nicely.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael scoffs.

“You can still better yourself, Michael. Whether it's for her or yourself. You can learn to read and write and get clean if that's what you want but Lindsay obviously loves you as you are,” Ryan says. “I mean, I've seen what she does to people she doesn't like.” This gets an honest, hearty laugh out of Michael. He and Lindsay fight way too much for her not to love him enough to not skin him for it. When his laughter dies down it's quiet again. The desert night is as unwelcoming as its day.

“Thanks, Courier,” Michael says. “Not that you helped but fuck if anyone else tries to fuckin’ talk to me when I'm coming down.”

“No problem,” Ryan assures. “My face hurts.”

“Don't patronize me,” Michael replies. Ryan chuckles. His face hurts a lot.

“I know where you can find some addictol,” he offers. “I can show you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They head out.


	6. VI Mica

VI.

Ryan curiously peeks up from behind the broken hull of a car he was digging through. The voices carry and after a moment, he realises he recognises one of them. Is that Mica? He shoves the caps he’s found in his pocket and makes an interested bob to see what’s going on. This isn’t that far off the beaten path but for as much as he knows, Mica doesn’t often stray from Geoff’s bar let alone FAKE. So what she could possibly doing out this way leads him to be very, very curious.

Also he wants to make sure she’s alright, of course.

She seems to be talking with some raiders which is, by itself, already concerning. Why they haven’t right out attacked her likely has to do with her being a pretty lady that they one hundred percent will try to drag back kicking and screaming. ‘Try’ being the key word, obviously. Ryan doesn’t want to agitate the situation or whatever Mica is up to so he stays out of sight for the time being.

“Give me the stuff and maybe we’ll talk,” Mica hums. She is surrounded by at minimum six dudes much larger than herself. She’s not worried at all. Of course, Ryan has also seen her take down some pretty intimidating, and annoying, patrons in Geoff’s bar so he’s not that surprised. If anything, Ryan is pretty sure Geoff hired her to stick around as a bouncer and management for stuff he can’t handle on his own anymore.

“The last ‘ _stuff_ ’ you brought us was bullshit,” one of the guys reminds her rather sharply. “The only ‘stuff’ we’re gonna talk about if how you’re going to repay us, bitch.”

“I only bring the stuff, shit for brains,” Mica replies with an award winning smile. “If you don’t know what the fuck to do with it, that sounds like your fuckin’ problem. Now, do you have what I want or don’t you?” She drops a signature luminescent star bottle cap and Ryan is alert at once. This thing has clearly gone bottoms up and she is bailing. When she became aware of Ryan’s presence he doesn’t fully know.

Ryan’s more than glad to lend a hand, though. Or several bullets.

When he comes out from his so called hiding spot, the raiders immediately take notice of him. He has killed a lot of them and by now, they’re quite good at noticing him when he’s coming- probably because they don’t want to get murdered. One of them urgently reaches to grab Mica, perhaps hoping to hold her hostage, and she elegantly ducks out of the way. He lunges at her, desperate to have some kind of protection but she isn’t in the mood to be touched, let alone grabbed, and she ducks and dances away from him at every angle, gradually making her way closer to Ryan.

The second this guy is within reach, Ryan sucker punches him in the face. He goes down hard, a large sum of his blood now on his outside, and effectively dead. Mica dips behind Ryan for safety while he adjusts his bladed knuckles. She sticks her tongue out at the rest of them. Ryan makes swift and short work of the raiders with minimum effort and minimum blood gotten on himself. The raiders around here aren’t exactly pinnacles of Mojave danger, after all.

Mica digs through their corpses to see if any of them had what she had initially come out for and pouts when she comes up empty handed. She picks up her bottle cap.

“Boo,” she says mildly before sighing. “Well, thanks anyways, Courier. You always show up at the weirdest times.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that,” Ryan agrees. “What were you doing meeting with raiders, anyways?”

“Ah, they said they had a twenty gauge special edition, hand carved MJack shotgun grip,” she says. Ryan knows what some of those words mean. Some sort of old world collectable, he would assume. If it’s a gun and it shoots he’ll use it. “And some make up.”

“I see,” Ryan replies with a nod.

“It’s hard to find make up out in this part of the Mojave,” she murmurs. “A lot of the places have been scrounged already.”

“I wouldn’t think people would hone in on make up so much,” Ryan admits.

“Oh yeah,” Mica assures with another grin. “I mean not only does it make you look great but pre-war make up was made with a whole bunch of garbage that makes it useful for all kinds of things- especially if you can find some radioactive kind. I used a lipstick that glows in the dark to make tracking pellets! Bean something with ‘em a few times and you can see them from fuckin space.”

“Cool,” Ryan says. That sounds super useful, actually. He never really thought of using make up for anything, perhaps partially because he really hasn’t ever seen any make up around here. “You’re really ingenious, you know that?” Mica beams.

“Thanks!” she purrs. “Not to mention you can still make a killing selling this stuff to those uppities like on the strip.” Ryan laughs.

“You’ve been to the strip?” he asks. Mica is taken aback; it seems this isn’t something she wanted to suggest.

“Oh, uh,” she says. They begin walking back towards FAKE. “I mean, everyone goes at least once, right?”

“If they have the caps or connections, sure,” Ryan agrees.

“I-” Mica begins, suddenly a lot more nervous to have this conversation.

“Uh, not that you have to tell me anything,” Ryan promises quickly. “I don’t mean to pry.” He didn’t know it was going to be a problem topic when he asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Mica sighs. “Just don’t go telling everyone, okay?” Ryan nods.

“I don’t talk to anyone,” he assures. Mica gives him a look that’s surely more playful than she means it to be. She rolls her eyes.

“More specifically, don’t tell Ray,” she says. That’s more understandable. “I will kill him.” Ryan can’t blame them, he was also under the impression Ray was in anything and everything for the caps alone, but this seems to be untrue really. He will do almost anything for some cold hard money but Ryan has yet to see him put his ‘friends’ in any kind of danger, let alone try to get a leg up on them- unless it’s making the Jones buy him soda.

“That’s fair,” Ryan agrees. “Deal.”

“I used to work on the strip,” Mica says. Ah, Ryan sees why she clammed up so much. “Nothing like, you know, Gomorrah level shit. I worked at the Ultra Luxe.”

“Really?” Ryan muses.

“I was a dealer, Courier, jeez,” she says, giving him an eye.

“They're cannibals,” he replies curiously. He doesn't _think_ Mica is like that. She laughs.

“They're really not. Well, most of them,” Mica says. “There were a couple odd ones but we really tried to put that behind us. Anyways, I'm not and I wasn't a cannibal- or a dancer for that matter.” Ryan nods agreeably.

“Why the secrecy?” he asks. Even if she was either of those, it's not like anyone around here is going to have anything to say about it. Alright, they might have something to say about the eating people thing but Ryan certainly doesn't.

“I dunno, people get the wrong idea, I guess,” Mica replies with a mild sigh. “It wasn't like the most luxurious places to work or anything but, you know, food, water, shelter, no radiation- the least a gal could ask for.”

“Why’d you leave?” Ryan inquires. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Some NCR asshole started stalking me,” she scoffs. “And when that wasn't enough, he attacked me. I killed him, the NCR got their fucking panties in a bunch, and the Ultra Luxe cut me loose so they wouldn't have to deal with the ‘drama’.” Compared to what Ryan saw, that seems pretty tame for them. The White Glove Society was brutal.

“That's unfortunate,” Ryan murmurs.

“Like I said, it was pretty bare minimum which is still a lot in the wasteland but whatever,” she says with a shrug. “I worked at the Tops for a while after but they weren't exactly about a dealer 'like me' and let's just say Gomorrah had a problem with me. So I just left. Went and did some merc work for a while.” She definitely doesn't look the type but Ryan knows well it's highly intentional. She's small and she can, and has, suplexed him through a table. That was so mean.

“And you eventually settled at Geoff's?” he says.

“Yeah. Geoff and Jack are okay and the people around here treat me right,” she says. “Plus I can still pick up jobs here and there. It's a lot more fun than living on the Strip, honestly.”

“The Strip doesn't seem like a place anyone would want to live permanently,” Ryan agrees.

“No kidding,” Mica laughs. “But my parents were pretty big names, I mean they still are but they got off the Strip too, so I just sort of fell into it. My dad is a really popular radio host. He's back east right now with mom working on a project. God, I sound so spoiled.”

“I don't think so,” Ryan murmurs. “You worked hard for what you have now. I don't really think the Strip is exactly a great place to grow up, anyways. It's just a different kind of violent.”

“You're such a dork, Courier,” Mica laughs playfully. “I've heard you've been going around playing therapist for everyone.”

“Therapist?” Ryan repeats. “I don't know what that is?”

“Head doctor,” Mica explains.

“Oh,” he says. “Not intentionally. They just sort of- do that.”

“Uh huh,” Mica says with a grin and she moves to hip bump him. “So therapy me, Dr. Courier.”

“Well,” Ryan replies, thinking about it for a second. “I don't remember where I'm from or if I even worked hard to be good at what I am so, can't relate?” Mica dramatic feigns a hand over her chest in heartbreak. “Alright, alright, wait. I- think I used to be a sex worker?”

“Oh,” Mica says like this wasn't really what she was expecting.

“Not on the strip I don't think. Aside from being mad at me for probably killing people they knew, no one has really said anything to me about it but, I dunno, there was a Khan that really wanted to know how much I charged ‘now’ and I've had just random NCR men approach me from behind only to quickly leave when I'm not who they thought,” Ryan says.

“Khans are just like that, though,” Mica assures. “And, I mean, no offense but NCR are kind of bullies. I wouldn't be surprised if they were trying to shake you down and got scared off by your ugly mug.” Ryan frowns.

“I guess,” he agrees. “I also have a pretty negative reaction to sex with most people. Ray is really the only person I don't feel incredibly bored or highly aggressive with. Which would make sense, honestly.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Mica murmurs.

“It doesn’t really matter. Whoever I was or whatever I did, it's not like that now,” Ryan says. “I also am probably from a vault and was also probably a slave at some point. My intimate knowledge of of power armor leads me to believe that at some point, I had _something_ to do with the Brotherhood of Steel. I've lived many lives, perhaps more than I'm even aware of myself, but I still ended up here.”

“That's- not really what I expected, I'll be honest, Courier,” Mica says. “You're usually not so- articulate?” That's fair.

“It's not where we come from or even what we've done. It's who we choose to be,” Ryan says.

“Well Courier,” Mica says softly. “Weirdly enough, I sort of feel better? So, thanks?”

“You're welcome?” Ryan responds just as bemusedly.

“Were you weirded out kissing me, then?” she asks. “Tell me the truth.”

Ryan sweats nervously.

“ _Courier_.”


	7. VII Jeremy

VII.

Jeremy's yelling gets Ryan's attention fairly easily. He sits up from the makeshift bed he's made to nap on and the nightstalker napping with him irritably turns invisible. Ryan squints as he spots Jeremy in the distance running from a very upset super mutant. There aren't a lot of mutants around here and Ryan really wouldn't be surprised if Jeremy had kited it all the way here. He gets up, brushing himself off to give the lad a hand.

“Hey Courier! That thing's mad!” Jeremy says loudly as he passes by. Ryan stops the super mutant with one hand, grabbing it firmly around the neck to cease its pursuit of Jeremy. “Whoa.” He makes quick work of this and when he's done, Jeremy hurriedly runs back over to look at the body.

“Oh! Thanks Courier!” he says pleasantly, immediately taking to doing something weird. How is Ryan the weird one when Jeremy is out in the middle of nowhere trying to sucks blood out of a super mutant with a straw? “I _really_ pissed it off.”

“Intentionally?” Ryan asks.

“I mean, no,” Jeremy replies. “It just got mad when I tried to take some of its blood.” That's what he's _actually_ doing?

“Do I want to know what on earth you're trying to do?” Ryan inquires, looking around to make sure nothing else is coming towards them.

“Oh, I think I've found a way to make a super chem from orc blood!” Jeremy assures.

“Orc?” Ryan murmurs.

“What are these? Super mutants? That, that's what I meant,” he says as he continues about his business. “Obviously they're heavy on the FEV and you don't want to ingest that but if you distill their blood, it more or less gets rid of that. Not that there's just, you know, blood distilleries around. Baking it works though! Then you get dried blood which you can rehydrate with liquor then reduce back down with sodium bicarbonate and pressurize into a fume.” Holy shit Ryan doesn't have _any_ idea what the fuck Jeremy is saying at him and Ryan considers himself smart. Jeremy doesn't seem to notice and likewise, Ryan decides he's not nearly interested enough in trying to consume super mutant blood.

“Where’d you learn all this stuff, Jeremy?” he asks instead.

“The Institute!” Jeremy chirps. “I mean! Not the Institute!” He immediately looks panicked, turning to Ryan to see what he's going to do. Once again, this escapes Ryan's range of knowledge.

“The Institute?” he repeats. Jeremy blinks curiously.

“That's right, you still have a bunch of gaps in your memory, huh? Well, it's not like we're well known out here anyways,” he says. “The Institute is like an underground city of scientists? We made the synths and some other junk like teleportation equipment.”

“Synths?” Ryan asks, crossing his arms as he looks down at what Jeremy is doing- or trying to do.

“Synthetic people! The first gens were more like robots and the second gens were still pretty robot but people looking at least with some inherent intelligence. The third gens are basically indistinguishable from people! They _are_ people, but not everyone sees it that way,” he explains.

“I see,” Ryan says with a thoughtful nod.

“Things sort of went, I don't know, not how I wanted them? It was fine until we started making gen 3s and then I kind of lost the stomach for it,” Jeremy explains as he absent mindedly pokes more holes in the super mutant. “The Institute basically kept gen three synths as slaves and that's on top of them being all ‘the people on the surface are dumb savages’ and whatever. I never got it.”

“It's understandable where they got that idea,” Ryan assures. There are tons of raiders and even outside of that, not everyone is friendly-friendly especially with lab coat folks.

“I guess,” Jeremy replies. “I left and came out here since they don't really like coming out this way and I can hide myself thanks to all the dust and heat. I'm not even sure they ever bothered looking for me, honestly. I don't think I was really important enough to track down.”

“Perhaps that was a good thing?” Ryan offers.

“Obviously no one cared enough, either,” Jeremy murmurs. “Anyways! Unfortunately I got out here and realised there's, like, zero lab equipment or literally anything else and I just sort of had to make due with what I could find. It's pretty fun making chems though and it helps people!”

“Yeah. You're good at it,” Ryan says, arching a brow. “Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah! Why?” Jeremy answers hastily.

“You're crying,” Ryan states plainly. Jeremy touches his face, curiously finding his cheeks wet and he hurriedly rubs his eyes in his palms to try to get rid of some of them. It really just makes his eyes puffy.

“Must be from the turbo,” he says. “Side effects and all that.” Ryan sits beside Jeremy and whatever he's doing here and Jeremy looks at him questioningly. When neither of them say anything for a bit, Jeremy just starts crying more. Ryan hugs him gently.

“Sorry, Courier,” Jeremy murmurs between small breathes. “I just- I miss them. They weren't great people and we didn't always get along and we had way different ideas about what we wanted to do but- I miss home so much.” Ryan just gives him a little pat on the head.

“I feel bad telling you this. I know you don't remember anything or have anyone and I fuckin’- I'm crying over some ignorant scientists who couldn't even figure their way out of a wet paper bag when it came to empathy for nearly anything,” he insists.

“It's okay Jeremy,” Ryan tells him. “You're right, I don't remember anyone I might have known before and there are reasons for that- not reasons I personally remember but still. You don't leave people behind lightly. Just because you miss them now doesn't mean they're good for you or ever were.”

“I know,” Jeremy says softly. “I wouldn't go back for the world. I just kind of wish they could have been different I guess?”

“And that's okay, too. They were your friends and family. Things change. You change,” Ryan murmurs. “I might not remember anything but I- have you, now. You and Geoff and Jack and Ray and everyone else in FAKE just like you do. To get good things, you have to leave the bad things.”

“Do you really not want to even know who your parents were? Or any friends you've had before?” he asks. “Even a little?”

“Nah,” Ryan says. “If I was meant to be there, I would. I've clearly been through a lot of hard times in my life. I'm not going to torture myself trying to figure out why.” Jeremy seems to mull it over for a bit, just peacefully resting in this quickly becoming awkward hug. He's stopped crying at least. Obviously he'd been holding this in a while. Ryan has found that it's actually pretty useful not remembering anything about anything- he doesn't really have a bias on anything. Well, with the exception of people who immediately started off on the wrong foot.

“Thanks Courier,” Jeremy says, squeezing Ryan in his hug tightly. “But please don't tell anyone I'm from the Institute.”

“I won't,” Ryan promises. Once again, he really has no reason to tell anyone, anything about Jeremy.

“You've been a good friend, you know,” Jeremy assures him, fortunately releasing their increasingly awkward hug. “Which is weird in the Mojave, really. That usually, you know, gets people pretty dead.”

“Most people that cross me end up dead,” Ryan replies. Jeremy laughs.

“I noticed,” he says and then his laugh becomes more nervous. “Wait, was that a threat?” Ryan pokes the dead super mutant curiously, surprised at how much blood Jeremy actually managed to get out of this thing.

“Come on, I'll take you back to FAKE,” Ryan assures. “So you don't get chased back.”

“Oh, okay,” Jeremy murmurs. “About that threat thing?”


	8. VIII Ray

VIII.

Ryan yawns tiredly as he returns to his home for the evening. Sir Scales and Edgar run to his feet at once, clinging to each of his legs and happily chirping. He leans down to give them each a pet before searching in his bag to find some treats to give them. Once they both have an armful of bug meat, they gladly scramble off again to eat.

“And for my favorite,” Ryan says as he pulls a pack of snack cakes from his bag and drops them in Ray's lap.

“Thanks daddy,” Ray replies.

“Did you have to make it weird?” Ryan murmurs.

“Always,” Ray answers. He rips the package open with his hand and teeth and chows down without hesitation as Ryan starts taking his gear off. It's been a long day of a long week of a long forever. Everything aches in a way med-x doesn't really help with. He flops down with Ray on the mattress, poking a bit more life into the fire.

“Feels like the Legion is losing momentum,” Ryan says as he yawns again. “I haven't seen a hit squad in a while.”

“Well no shit, you keep ripping them apart,” Ray answers. “I'm surprised you haven't ended this war on your own.” Ryan laughs.

“One could hope,” he agrees. They sit quietly for a bit as Ryan tries to relax a little with another shot of med-x. He always feels a little more rested when he sleeps at home. Ryan glances at Ray when he's quiet for too long. There's something off.

“[Copper Tongue] You're in a good mood tonight. Something happen?” Ryan asks. Ray sighs a bit before flopping down into the pillows and propping his hand behind his head.

“I met someone from my vault today,” he says.

“Oh,” Ryan replies. “How did that go?”

“We talked. It was fine,” Ray says and he shrugs mildly. “Seems like the vault is doing well. New overseer, new leaders.”

“That's nice, I guess,” Ryan agrees.

“I mean, fuck, it's not like everyone in my vault was trying to fucking murder me. Most people didn't even know. Just the overseer and the fuckin’ doctors,” Ray scoffs with increasing agitation. “Then the dude had the audacity to be ‘surprised’ when I said I'd rather live without a pipboy than die for some tech from a vault that forced me out anyways.”

“I'd hate to bring up bad memories, but what exactly did happen with your vault, Ray?” Ryan asks tentatively. “And your arm for that matter.”

“I told my overseer I wanted to be recognized as a dude, not thinking that would be a problem, it was a problem, then I left before they could test their ‘conversion’ theories on me,” Ray explains in short hand. That sounds pretty bad, but Ryan had already been fairly aware of that.

“Unfortunate,” Ryan murmurs.

“So I made it on my own, started heading towards the Strip, and got caught by some BoS assholes who wanted my pipboy. I wasn't about to single handedly fight like six dudes in fucking tin cans so I chopped my arm off and bolted for it,” Ray says as he waves his amputated arm around. “Fortunately found a doctor to help me out before I bled to death or of infection or something and made my way out here.”

“It's been a long life for you,” Ryan says. Ray makes a loud, irritable scoffing noise.

“Meanwhile, dude McPenis is doing just fine and is heading back to the fucking vault after gambling away caps on fucking strippers and booze,” he snaps. Ryan pets his head softly even if this doesn't seem to comfort him much. “And I'm living in a shit town, hoarding junk with my weird as shit boyfriend.”

“Would you have preferred to be in a vault?” Ryan asks curiously.

“Fuck no,” Ray replies. “Any vault. I just want to be somewhere there's fresh water and food and not the threat of giant scorpions literally all the time.”

“Two out of three doesn't sound bad,” Ryan tries to insist. “Plus, I got rid of the Powder Gangers and other raiders have obviously learned better. And we're safe from the Legion- and whatever the NCR think they're doing.”

“Yeah, so now we just wait here until we die,” Ray replies grumpily.

“Well, as opposed to what?” Ryan questions.

“Making a difference? Actually changing something?” Ray assures with a sharp bite.

“I killed _all_ of the Powder Gangers,” Ryan repeats.

“Yeah, _you_ ,” Ray scoffs. “What are the rest of us doing? Sitting on our asses all the time?”

“No,” Ryan says with a bit of irritation himself. “Geoff keeps this town alive. He sets up caravans and trades not to mention he runs the only store and bar and inn in town since no one else wants to do it. Where would we all be if not for that? Jack is an incredible doctor who, even now, is doing her best to research better tech and chems and procedures to help people transition smoother- not to mention she always patches us up when we're dumb as shit.”

“That's really not what I meant,” Ray grumbles.

“And Gavin is like a technological genius? You give him anything and let him take it apart and he can tell you exactly how it was made and how to improve it. He's turned complete junk into actual comprehensible weaponry. Lindsay and Michael are absolute tanks. If there's any raiders or Legion within any sort of conceivable radius of this town, they go out there and get rid of them. Plus, Lindsay collects information about stuff that we wouldn't have even thought would be important and Michael is a _complete_ nightstalker. You send him after someone and he won't come back until he finds them,” Ryan goes on. Ray is quiet now, a mild frown etched on his face.

“Mica is ingenious. Not only does she handle the caravans when Geoff is away, but she develops weapons and _tools_ that make everyone's lives a whole lot easier. She even repairs our armor for, Atom, a meager amount of caps sometimes. Jeremy makes all the chems we'll ever need and he does it out of stuff that Jack grows in her off time. Everyday I see him he's working on something new or improving something or asking me to find some research for him,” Ryan insists.

“And you,” he says.

“What about me?” Ray snaps back.

“You retain information at a truly alarming rate. If anyone ever has something they don't know about, they know you can tell them about it or at the very least, point them in the direction for it. Your intel is so in depth and variable, I still don't know how you do it. Without you, I doubt anyone here would have gotten as far as they did. Knowing where to find stuff, knowing how to get to people, knowing the land- we need that,” Ryan urges. Ray doesn't say anything, grumpily scrunching his face instead.

“I don't think anyone here would have made it this far without each other,” Ryan assures. “We might not be as fancy or well put together as one of your vaults but we're a town of our own and we're doing a lot of good, Ray.”

“Yeah, I,” Ray sighs. “I guess you're right, man. I don't know, I guess I'm still sort of thinking in that good ol’ Vault-Tec mindset. I expected us to be fuckin’ raising kids and book learning and fixing arc reactors.” Ryan laughs and after a moment, Ray laughs too. “I guess that's dumb.”

“No offense Ray, but I've yet to find a vault that's really making a difference,” Ryan tells him. “At best, they're just making by and at worst, well, they've already eaten themselves alive- sometimes literally.”

“No kidding,” Ray agrees. “Now that I think about it, I don't think my vault ever really did anything even remotely useful. We just sort of held stable.” Ryan smiles at him and Ray smiles back mutely. “Thanks man, I didn't mean to get all melodramatic on you there.”

“I know it's hard living out here sometimes,” Ryan says. “But we got each other at least.”

“And listen, just because you're weird as all hell and shit, like, I mean, you do good, too,” Ray murmurs. “Even Michael and Lindsay wouldn't have gone after the Powder Gangers like that and- you go all over the wasteland for us for literally completely arbitrary reasons and you always come back. You're part of this town, too, dude. Just in case you didn't know.”

“Thanks Ray,” Ryan replies with a soft chuckle. “I'll take your backhanded compliment to heart.”

“There's that weirdness,” Ray says. “Just sort of there.”

“How was _that_ weird!” Ryan insists. Ray makes an over the top kissing noise at him.


	9. I Ryan

IX.

The bar is unusually busy. It's rare that Geoff sees it like this anymore. So rarely do people travel this way let alone in such a group- at least not any non-raider people. It's nice to have a bustling bar for once. He and Jack hurry around to help everyone while their regulars have a good time chatting with the newcomers.

Most of the regulars, at least. The Courier looks uncomfortable but he usually is in crowds. Geoff plops another ice cold Nuka Cola down in front of him and the Courier glances up in question.

“On the house, eh,” Geoff assures. “Pretty sure you're responsible for this, getting rid of those nightmare Powder Gangers and all.” The Courier keeps the roads around here safe now a days, far more than any NCR folks ever did at any rate. A free cola now and again is the least he can do.

“Thanks,” the Courier replies with a mute smile. He can certainly leave whenever he wants but Geoff knows he's likely hanging around to make sure nothing goes down. Geoff appreciates it. A man comes to sit besides him and the Courier immediately sighs deeply at the very thought of social interaction.

“Hey! I didn't think I'd ever see you again, ਞᗾરᔂ,” he says. Geoff may not know an awful lot about the Courier but he's pretty sure his name is Ryan. In fact, the Courier’s face seems to have frozen up in a blank expression at the greeting or perhaps the name. The stranger laughs, putting an overly comfortable hand on the Courier’s back. “Last time I saw you, you were suckin’ down dick for chems.”

“I think you have the wrong person, buddy,” Geoff says blandly. Even if he doesn't, this isn't a conversation he's about to have go down in his bar. This guy is really weird and the Courier seems to have vacated his body.

“Nah, I know ਞᗾરᔂ when I see her,” the guy continues to insist. Geoff bristles. “I know you were tomboyish before but damn, what happened to your nice tiddies?” He pats the Courier’s chest faintly with a grin.

“I ain't gonna tell you again,” Geoff growls. “You have the wrong person. Leave him alone.” Instead, the stranger reaches down between the Courier’s thighs and without warning, gropes him. The Courier seems to be completely stunned and even this doesn't make him react in the slightest. It takes all of Geoff to not just jump over the bar top.

“Hey!” he snaps. “What the fuck! Hand off, you freak!” He has the whole bar's attention now, everyone growing quiet to see what's going on.

“Definitely ਞᗾરᔂ,” he assures. “Ain't never met another masculine lady like this with a loose ass pussy like that before. Face scars really tip it off, though.”

“The Courier isn't a woman,” Jack speaks up sourly. “Even if you knew him as one, he isn't anymore.” The guy laughs.

“I can't believe she has you fooled. You think she's not whoring herself out to everyone around here? This slut will do literally anything for caps,” he says. He is getting, at minimum, eight death stares. None of them take kindly to this kind of language being used in such a way especially directed at the Courier. “I've seen her take three dicks at once. Hell, I heard she let a coyote fuck her ‘till she was swollen just to get some jet. This bitch isn't anything but pure fiend slut.”

“You should leave,” Geoff says firmly. “Before someone here does something they regret.” The stranger looks taken aback, seemingly surprised that they'd go so far for the Courier.

“Alright, alright,” he murmurs. “Well, shit. How much you chargin’ lately, ਞᗾરᔂ? Or do you discuss that in private now?”

“That's my boyfriend,” Ray informs as he steps forward with an irritable look on his face and a scrunch in his nose. The Courier isn't going anywhere with anyone right now.

“Oh,” he says. “Sorry man. How much do you charge for her, then?” Michael and Lindsay both stand, each of them audibly cracking their knuckles. Jack sighs loudly.

“We asked you to leave nicely,” she says.

“I think it's high time we show our guests a proper FAKE goodbye,” Geoff says. Mica yanks the stranger backwards by his shirt collar, catching him by surprise as he's ripped off his seat. She smiles sweetly.

“Goodbye,” Mica hums as she punches him square in the face. The entire bar erupts into a fight, absolutely making a mess of everything as everyone scrambles to deal with everyone else. The Courier doesn’t react in the slightest, never once moving from where he sits at the bar with his cola in hand as the world gets into a fist fight around him. Most people bail before they die, urgently fleeing the building as the residents of FAKE beat them to bloody pulps.

The bar only quiets back down when all their ‘guests’ have either left or died. Most of them aren't too worse for the wear, fortunately. They all have their skills and in most cases, those skills are surviving and killing anyone who tries to threaten that. Geoff looks back to the Courier and gradually, so does everyone else. Still, he doesn’t move, doesn't even seem to breath.

“Courier,” Jeremy says. “You know no one here cares if any of that is true, right?”

“Yeah! We don't even _want_ to know what you were before this if you don't want us to,” Gavin assures. The Courier blinks slowly, turning to look at them with a puzzled expression.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I zoned out there for a second. What's, uh, what happened?”

“You didn't hear what that guy said?” Jack asks.

“Oh, uh, no. I wasn't listening,” the Courier says sheepishly and he laughs. “I think I almost remembered something about my life for a second there.” Everyone's quiet for a moment, looking at one another hastily to decide what to do now.

“Maybe it's for the best you didn't,” Ray finally says. “You're not that person anymore.”

“Yeah,” the Courier replies but he seems to linger on the thought anyways. “I shouldn't push my luck.”

“Anyways,” Geoff murmurs as he puts a heavy hand on the Courier’s back. “How ‘bout a round of drinks on the house? I think we all could use one.” The Courier glances around, seemingly realising now the carnage that has gone on around him.

“Did I miss something?” he questions curiously. “What did that guy say?”

“Nothing important, that's for damn sure,” Michael scoffs loudly. “People should mind their own business.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Lindsay agrees. “They won't be coming back.”

“Some of them _really_ won't be coming back,” Mica assures suggestively. The Courier looks incredibly confused but unwilling to really delve into whatever the fuck happened.

“Hey man,” Ray says as he plops down beside the Courier at the bar. “Just know we got your back when you need it.”

“Thanks?” the Courier replies. “I should probably take it easy on the med-x.”


End file.
